There exists in London a singular tribe of men, known amongst the
“fraternity of vagabonds” as Chaunters and Patterers. Both classes
are great talkers. The first sing or chaunt through the public
thoroughfares ballads—political and humorous—carols, dying speeches,
and the various other kinds of gallows and street literature. The
second deliver street orations on grease-removing compounds, plating
powders, high polishing blacking, and the thousand and one wonderful
pennyworths that are retailed to gaping mobs from a London kerb stone.
They are quite a distinct tribe from the costermongers; indeed, amongst
tramps, they term themselves the “harristocrats of the streets,” and
boast that they live by their intellects. Like the costermongers,
however, they have a secret tongue or Cant speech, known only to each
other. This Cant, which has nothing to do with that spoken by the
costermongers, is known in Seven Dials and elsewhere as the RHYMING
SLANG, _or the substitution of words and sentences which rhyme
with other words intended to be kept secret_. The chaunter’s Cant,
therefore, partakes of his calling, and he transforms and uses up into
a rough speech the various odds and ends of old songs, ballads, and
street nick-names, which are found suitable to his purpose. Unlike
nearly all other systems of Cant, the rhyming Slang is not founded
upon allegory; unless we except a few rude similes, thus—I’M AFLOAT is
the rhyming Cant for _boat_, SORROWFUL TALE is equivalent to _three
months in jail_, ARTFUL DODGER signifies a _lodger_, and a SNAKE IN THE
GRASS stands for a _looking-glass_—a meaning that would delight a fat
Chinaman, or a Collector of Oriental proverbs. But, as in the case of
the costers’ speech and the old gipsey-vagabond Cant, the chaunters and
patterers so interlard this rhyming Slang with their general remarks,
while their ordinary language is so smothered and subdued, that, unless
when they are professionally engaged and talking of their wares, they
might almost pass for foreigners.
From the inquiries I have made of various patterers and “paper
workers,” I learn that the rhyming Slang was introduced about twelve
or fifteen years ago. Numbering this class of oratorical and bawling
wanderers at twenty thousand, scattered over Great Britain, including
London and the large provincial towns, we thus see the number of
English vagabonds who converse in rhyme and talk poetry, although
their habitations and mode of life constitute a very unpleasant
Arcadia. These nomadic poets, like the other talkers of Cant or secret
languages, are stamped with the vagabond’s mark, and are continually
on the move. The married men mostly have lodgings in London, and come
and go as occasion may require. A few never quit London streets, but
the greater number tramp to all the large provincial fairs, and prefer
the MONKERY (country) to town life. Some transact their business in a
systematic way, sending a post-office order to the Seven Dials printer,
for a fresh supply of ballads or penny books, or to the SWAG SHOP, as
the case may be, for trinkets and gewgaws, to be sent on by rail to a
given town by the time they shall arrive there.
When any dreadful murder, colliery explosion, or frightful railway
accident has happened in a country district, three or four chaunters
are generally on the spot in a day or two after the occurrence, vending
and bawling “_A True and Faithful Account_,” &c., which “true and
faithful account” was concocted purely in the imaginations of the
successors of Catnach and Tommy Pitts,[58] behind the counters of their
printing shops in Seven Dials. And but few fairs are held in any part
of England without the patterer being punctually at his post, with
his nostrums, or real gold rings (with the story of the wager laid by
the gentleman—see FAWNEY BOUNCING, in the Dictionary), or save-alls
for candlesticks, or paste which, when applied to the strop, makes
the dullest razor keen enough to hack broom handles and sticks, and
after that to have quite enough sharpness left for splitting hairs, or
shaving them off the back of one of the clodhoppers’ hands, looking
on in amazement. And CHEAP JOHN, too, with his coarse jokes, and no
end of six-bladed knives, and pocket-books, containing information for
everybody, with pockets to hold money, and a pencil to write with in
the bargain, and a van stuffed with the cheap productions of Sheffield
and “Brummagem,”—he, too, is a patterer of the highest order, and
visits fairs, and can hold a conversation in the rhyming Slang.
Such is a rough description of the men who speak this jargon; and
simple and ridiculous as the vulgar scheme of a rhyming Slang may
appear, it must always be regarded as a curious fact in linguistic
history. In order that the reader’s patience may not be too much taxed,
only a selection of rhyming words has been given in the Glossary,—and
these for the most part, as in the case of the back Slang, are the
terms of everyday life, as used by this order of tramps and hucksters.
It must not be supposed, however, that the chaunter or patterer
confines himself entirely to this Slang when conveying secret
intelligence. On the contrary, although he speaks not a “leash of
languages,” yet is he master of the beggars’ Cant, and is thoroughly
“up” in street Slang. The following letter, written by a chaunter
to a gentleman who took an interest in his welfare, will show his
capabilities in this line.